Page 63 of Breaking
"Some outdoor adventure place. Climbing, kayaking, all the things that make parents worry but kids love."
Jenna shook her head with a smile. "At least they'll burn off all that energy."
Adam laughed. "That's the hope. Though Rhian has already planned a playlist for the entire bus ride, so I'm not sure if it'll be restful."
His admiring dark eyes ran over her shining blond hair, her skin glistening with sweat under the late afternoon sun. Her cheeks were flushed red from the heat, and the front of her shirt gaped slightly as she caught her breath. Adam's gaze flickered up quickly, respectful but appreciative.
"Hey, Jenna," he said, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I was wondering if you'd like to grab dinner sometime. No pressure, just... good food and company."
Jenna hesitated. It had been years since she'd been on a date. Since Troy. But something in Adam's expression reassured her. There was no expectation, no rush-just an offer.
After a long moment, she exhaled and smiled. "Yeah. I think I'd like that."
They went to a cosy tapas bar on the edge of town. Adam, with his dry humour and genuine warmth, made her laugh in a way she hadn't in years. She enjoyed herself, felt light for the first time in a long while. When he walked her to her door at the end of the night, she felt an unfamiliar nervousness creeping in.
He must have sensed it because he leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead instead. "I know you're not ready. Let’s take it slow."
Jenna nodded with relief, "Thanks, Adam."
She stepped inside, closing the door softly behind her. Leaning against it, she let out a shaky breath. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach, her pulse thudding in her throat. For the first time in a long while, she felt good-about the sparkle of attraction between them, about the possibility of something new. A slow, hesitant smile curved her lips as she pushed off the door and made her way inside.
The next day, Jenna and Grace went shopping together, sharing a ride to save on petrol. They returned home after a quick detour to their favourite local bakery. Grace walked home with her groceries balanced. Jenna juggled her bags while trying to pull another from the boot of the car. Teenagers ate like there was an apocalypse on the horizon, she thought.
"Let me help you with that," a voice came from behind her.
She froze. That voice. Familiar, deep, edged with something that made her stomach drop.
Slowly, she turned. And there he was. Troy.
Her breath caught, words failing her as she just blinked at him. He looked different-leaner, more tired-but the same intense hazel eyes pinned her in place.
He stepped past her, grabbing the rest of her bags as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "Go on inside. I'll follow you."
Jenna moved on autopilot, too shocked to resist. Once inside, she set the bags down and turned to face him, her voice finally finding its strength. "What are you doing here? You can't stay here. I don't want you here."
Troy held her gaze, something unreadable in his expression. "We need to talk."
Jenna shook her head, her hands curling into fists at her sides. "No. Not yet. Not nearly time yet. Out."
Troy's lips parted as if to protest. "But I-"
"Out," she said, her voice rising. Before he could say another word, she marched to the door, yanked it open, and gestured sharply.
He hesitated for only a moment before stepping outside. The moment his foot crossed the threshold, Jenna slammed the door shut, pressing her back against it, her chest heaving.
Jenna's pulse thundered in her ears. "There's nothing left to say, Troy."
But even as she said it, she knew that was a lie. There was too much left unsaid between them.
Chapter 52
Jenna
Jenna stood just inside the door, her breath shallow, fingers clenched at her sides. Through the peephole, she watched Troy stand motionless on the doorstep, his shoulders slumped in a way she had never seen before. He wasn't knocking, wasn't calling her name. He just stood there, looking exhausted, looking... lost.
She saw him reach into his pocket, hesitate, then pull his hand back. He did it again, as though caught in an internal struggle. Finally, he extracted a small slip of paper from his pocket, smoothing it out against his palm. Jenna held her breath as she watched him scribble something hastily. Then, with a final glance at the door, he bent down, placed the paper on the doorstep, and walked away, the soft click of the gate echoing in the quiet street.
Jenna remained frozen, waiting until the sound of his footsteps faded completely.
